Perfect Justice
by Javanyet
Summary: A continuation of the events of Mortal Wounds. Maura's creative vengeance against Kevin Mitchell complicates Nick's life at home and at work.
1. Chapter 1

Since Wednesday was the first day of Maura's work week she spent Tuesday nights getting ready. As loudly as Maura would have denied harboring anal-retentive tendencies, her personal schedule hadn't so much settled into place as it had been carved into granite. Tuesday night was coffee grinding night. Her bone-deep addiction to high-end caffeine was a thing that had to be fed on as regular a schedule as Nick's need for blood. The electric coffee grinder, fancy chrome French coffee press, cinnamon and nutmeg grinders, and electric kettle that Nick had bought her for no particular occasion ("self defense" he had declared… "the sooner you have your coffee every day, the safer I feel") got regular and enthusiastic use. On the Tuesdays Nick had off he would sit reading in the living room with the stereo headphones firmly planted over his ears to drown out the ceaseless whine of the coffee grinder.

This Tuesday night, though, Nick was navigating yet another difficult shift at the precinct. In addition to coping with the usual Toronto mayhem, he had been working with Schanke to tie up the loose ends of the presumed escape of Kevin Mitchell, the murderer of Maura's friend Christopher. It had been a week since Mitchell had (apparently) slipped away during his transfer to his arraignment, and no leads were forthcoming. The sooner the case was declared cold the better. For Nick, and Maura as well. They were the only two besides Janette and LaCroix who knew what had actually become of Mitchell, forced into the daylight by Maura after he'd been brought across by LaCroix at her insistence. She had believed that for her it would be the resolution of a loss she'd been unable to accept. Of course the reality was that killing Kevin achieved nothing resembling resolution for anyone, and Nick was not always successful at keeping a lid on the revulsion it triggered in him. No question that he still loved Maura and was relieved he'd been able to persuade her to abandon her plans to leave after the killing. But Nick was realizing this was going to be a whole lot harder to deal with, both personally and professionally, than either of them had imagined. Mitchell's speedy arrest and the near certainty of his conviction hadn't been good enough for Maura; perfect justice was what she'd wanted, and her rage of grief had convinced her she could achieve it via one unconscionable act that turned her life with Nick, and his job, upside down.

Shortly after the fatal night Maura had offered to confess to helping Mitchell escape (without mentioning his demise to the police) but Nick refused to consider it. Tonight before he'd left for the precinct she repeated the suggestion.

"Nick, really, I'll tell them I hired someone to help me get Kevin out because I wanted him to serve more time or something like that, maybe get shot while being captured, that I never really expected him to disappear." She was thinking with her mouth, frantic to come up with a solution that would allow her at least some semblance of relief from the guilt that was eating her up every time she looked at him. Nick wasn't impressed. If anything it seemed to piss him off.

"Then what? You do five to ten for aiding in the escape of a confessed murder suspect? It won't matter why, you'll go down either way. At least Schanke and I won't have to track you down. Maybe I can get time off to visit you in prison in Ottawa…" his voice became more bitter as he went on.

"Nick, I'm just trying…"

"It's too late to _try_, Maura," Nick interrupted testily, then managed to throttle back his frustration. Given his own unspeakable past, he honestly didn't want to make things worse for her than he knew they were already. He hardly had the moral authority, in any case. He paused for a moment and forced his voice back to normal. "Let's just deal with things as they are, okay? I'll think of something. It's not as if I never lied before." The last sentence cut her, though he hadn't intended it to. There were just too many words to be careful of and too many landmines to avoid. Maura didn't react except by a saddening of her already somber expression.

"Okay. Whatever you think is right."

He grabbed his wallet and keys and shrugged into his leather jacket, leaning down to where Maura pretending to read so he could kiss her goodbye. "I have to go in early. Don't wait up. Two new cases and, well, you know."

She nodded. "Yeah. I know. I've turned your work into hell, I'm so sorry…"

"Ssh," he kissed her again. "No more circles, okay?" Maura used to chide Nick for being "addicted to the 's' word" but lately she'd been unable to stop saying it. He was right, she was just stuck in a useless loop.

Hours later Maura wearily ran the Dust Buster over every surface within a 10 foot radius of her work space. She was exhausted, having been unable to sleep for some time now. She'd honestly believed that her bottomless pain and agitation would magically disappear once she'd disposed of Kevin. How could she have been so wrong? She hadn't laid anything at all to rest, merely thrown a brick into a well-managed pond and now the ripples were washing over Nick, and Schanke, and the poor young cops who were convinced they'd screwed up. She was no more sorry for Mitchell being dead than she'd been the night she killed him, but how she wished now she'd thought harder, had listened even to LaCroix's half-hearted warnings of the trouble that would follow, and been satisfied with Nick's "imperfect" justice.

Maura heard the back door close as she finished putting her coffee things away. She no longer asked Nick how his nights went, feeling unable to offer the calm refuge from work he'd always found at home with her. She knew too well the tightrope he was walking because she'd strung it herself and pushed him out onto it. Now when Nick came home stressed to the max much of it was because what she'd done.

Nick shared few of her troubled conclusions. He longed to meet in the middle somehow, to listen to her fears and make her understand that while she'd made things difficult, and yes he'd been stunned and angered by her betrayal and violence, his feelings for her remained constant. It troubled him to see her back away every time he tried to draw them closer together. Until she could understand she hadn't killed their connection along with Kevin Mitchell Nick didn't know how he'd keep Maura from drifting farther away. It was obvious that she saw herself, and not what she'd done, as the problem. For some reason the gentle logic she'd always plied him with for his identical errors in judgment didn't seem to reach her now that their roles were reversed.

"Hey, did you make your coffee music tonight?" he asked as he greeted her with an exhausted kiss.

"Yeah, managed to repair the damage before you got home." He wanted to tell her not to worry about it but she headed him off with, "I need some air," before going upstairs and to the roof. She spent so much of her time there lately, as if she felt she was intruding on his life. As Nick watched Maura go her sadness came to him in waves. He knew now her cold declarations the night she killed Kevin were empty, wishful thinking. Maura had never been sorrier in her life for anything. He knew too that she understood that instead of easing her pain all she'd done was spread it to a wider population. She'd been wrong about Christopher's brother James as well. Rather than understanding as Maura had insisted he would, James had been so disturbed to hear what she'd done he had cut her off completely. "What have you accomplished?" he'd asked her, "Chris is still dead, and you've just made life harder for everyone left behind. Nothing's resolved, and nothing's even. I can't believe you thought I'd want this. How could you believe you were doing it for Chris and not yourself?"

Thus the friendship that had begun in the darkness of mutual loss never made it into the light; James' goodbye had been, undeniably, final. Finally Maura became intimately acquainted with what Nick had known for so long: the desperation to make up for what could never be undone. It was a knowledge he would have done anything to spare her, but there was nothing to be done now but to deal with things as they were. Maura's self-imposed exile seemed to be the penance she'd decided upon, and rather than make things easier it just removed the one source of comfort that had seen them through every other difficulty they'd encountered since coming together.

The night was damp and overcast, no sparkling stars or skyline to get lost in, so Maura simply leaned on the railing and contemplated the fog. If anything her recklessness had deepened the hole in her heart left by Christopher's death, had separated her from everything she'd clung to in order to survive his loss.

Nick slipped a jacket around her shoulders. "It's chilly up here." He stood close behind her. "Why don't you come back inside, Sweet? Lately I'm afraid you might move up here permanently. I know I've been a little edgy, but don't hide from me."

Maura turned quickly to look in his eyes, tormented. "Edgy? I can't imagine why. I'm not hiding, it's just that everything I do and say feels like I'm imposing. I fucked up your work, I fucked up our_ life_, what business do I have even pretending to belong here?"

"You'll always belong here. We'll find a way out of this." If he said it often enough it might come true.

"_How_? Will you convince the department they should just let it go? Will you get Schanke to give up trying to avenge my loss? _Shit_, Nick, I wish I could take it all _back_, even if it meant Kevin would get off clean." She had completely abandoned her wild, self-righteous posturing of a week ago.

"I know." She saw in Nick's eyes he did know, exactly, every conflicting and desperate emotion that raged inside her. He brushed light fingers against her temple as if the gesture were a direct link to her thoughts. "I know what you wish. I know what you'd do if you could. I've been there, remember? A million times. There's no way out of this except through. Haven't you told me that often enough?"

"Yeah, I'm a fucking genius, aren't I?" She stepped away and went to a far corner of the roof. "I should've just left before you came home that night."

"What then?" He stood where she'd left him, by the railing. "We'd still all be dealing with what happened, and I'd be left alone."

"Better off, maybe. Safe from my stupid, reckless..." she trailed off, out of words. It was as if nothing she said made sense anymore.

Nick's face creased in a frown as he approached her slowly. "Maura, how can I make you understand?" He gave up logic for the moment, trying instead to coax her out from behind the wall he feared might become permanent. "I miss you when you're up here. When you're all wrapped up tight inside yourself I have nobody to be with, I'm lonesome when you hide like this."

"Maybe you should find someone who'll be with you and _not_ fuck up everything you care about. When you come home all tied up in knots you deserve _not_ to have to deal with the person who tied 'em in the first place."

"I care about _you_. I won't pretend it's easy, I won't lie to you and say it's no big deal. But you acting like an interloper in your own home isn't making anything easier for either of us. So why can't you let the evil be sufficient unto the day?"

She gestured helplessly. "I just don't want to hurt you anymore."

"That's easy, then." Nick crossed the distance between them with a long reach, taking her hand. When she didn't go to him he went to her, cocking his head to look closely into her eyes. "If nothing else makes sense right now, believe in this," he leaned forward to kiss her, glad she didn't pull away.

"The reality upon which the universe is based?" Maura ventured, remembering a time when their life together was almost as uncertain.

"Uh-huh. C'mere, will you? I'm too tired to keep chasing you."

So she let him hug her, sounding so weary as he buried his face in her hair with a sigh.

"I'm sorry," she told him, "I'm so, so, sorry, I know I swore you couldn't live long enough to hear that, that I would live and die glad I'd done it, but I wasn't thinking right. I hurt James, I hurt you, and those two cops who think they lost Kevin from custody, and I've forced you to tell lies because how could you tell the truth about what I did? If I'd shot him, you could just turn me in with nothing to hide."

Nick tensed. Even the thought of having to make such a choice disturbed him. "Don't even think that." He stepped back, still holding her shoulders, then gently touched the corner of her eye. "Where's it gone, I wonder."

"What?" She was so tired, and had no idea what he was talking about now.

"That light in your eyes. The one I saw when we first met, the one that puts the world on notice, it's everything that's kept you from giving up. It's kept _me_ from giving up sometimes." He looked almost as sad as she felt. "I can't find it anymore."

"Neither can I." She couldn't think of anything else to say.

He drew her with him to the stairs. "Come on to bed. I know you haven't been sleeping. I find you on the sofa at four in the morning."

She didn't think he knew, his sleep was usually too deep to disturb. As always, he seemed to read her mind.

"Do you really think I don't know? You'll never be clever enough to hide yourself from me. Why do you keep trying?"

Now in the bedroom, Maura stood awkwardly beside the bed she hadn't slept in for nearly a week. "You're right, Bats, I'm acting like an interloper, I _feel_ like an interloper, I feel like I stepped over a line and can't come back. All I can think of is that when you see me you're reminded of what I did, that I used you and what I knew about you and killed someone. I did the thing you've put yourself through hell for a hundred years to _stop _doing." His pained look spoke volumes. Wasn't there _anything_ she could do that wouldn't hurt him?

"Tell me you trust me." He was reading her mind again. Or her eyes. He'd gotten so good at it.

"I _do_ Nick, I always did! How can you think I don't?"

Nick disappeared and re-emerged from his dressing room in black silk pajama bottoms and loose kimono. "How can _you_ think you need to hide from me? You're a part of me, Sweet, and when I see you and hear you and feel you near me the only thing I'm 'reminded' of is how much I want us to survive this together. Yes, you stepped over a line, and far. But you know what?" He turned down her side of the bed. "We'll figure out how to draw a new one. Now come on, I'm tired of waking up alone."

Maura had gotten changed into a night shirt, but still stood away from the bed. "I've been waking up a lot. I didn't want to disturb you."

"It 'disturbs' me to wake up alone. See how you've spoiled me?" Nick's quiet insistence was overcoming Maura's uneasiness. Finally she crawled into bed and when he took her in his arms she went boneless against him, hoping to give up the torture she was putting herself through.

"I love you," he whispered, as if by saying the words he could force the knowledge into her, "Saint or screwup."

"I guess we know which one I am. I love you too, Bats, I swear I do even though I acted like you didn't matter at all."

"Enough," he scolded gently, "go to sleep now."

She tried to. It was no use. The painful knowledge of the trust she'd betrayed continued to whirl in her brain like a hamster on a wheel, and with just as much progress. Desperation fed on futility, a feeling of being trapped and needing to search again and again for an escape that didn't exist. She wanted to break away and run out the front door, run and run as if she could get away from this panicky feeling, the certainty she'd ruined absolutely everything that mattered. When she was certain that Nick was deeply asleep, Maura carefully withdrew from his embrace and crept out of bed to go downstairs. An interloper, he told her it wouldn't help things to act like she was an interloper in her own home. But it didn't _feel_ like hers anymore, it felt like she'd forfeited all of it. She found her way to the sofa without turning on the light and lay down facing the back cushions. She knew she wouldn't sleep but it felt less wrong to be on her own.

Even deep in slumber Nick felt Maura leave his side. He opened his eyes and could feel her distress across the distance she kept putting between them. He slipped out of bed and flew down to find her.

Pain, guilt, and exhaustion were combining to erase every last bit of Maura's inner strength and certainty. She didn't even know who she was anymore, besides a killer who acted without consideration for anyone except Christopher. An empty consideration that was, too, because he was the one person to whom none of it could have mattered. And there was something else. A feeling of permanence nagged at her, of something broken that couldn't be fixed. Everything she'd made here in Toronto she'd broken without a backward glance, the friends she'd made and the life she and Nick had fought so hard to keep together, she'd smashed them all in a million pieces. She wanted to beg Nick to forgive her, even though she knew somehow he already did. He'd willingly forgive in others what for so long he couldn't accept in himself. But she'd given up the right to ask him to, hadn't she? When the tears came they came in silence, for the first time since the trip home from Christopher's funeral. Stupid, and useless, and absolutely all she had to offer everyone she'd driven away.

Nick could feel Maura's silent weeping even before he reached the sofa. How could he comfort her when he knew how impossible it was to rage against history? No amount of reassurance or kindness or even love could affect that bone-deep desperation to undo the past. He knelt next to her, then decided instead to stretch out behind her where she lay, pressing against her head to foot and working his arms around her to at least try to overpower her persistent illusion of being entirely alone. For now, all he could do was try to keep closing the distance. Patience was a thing Nick reserved for everyone but himself; he was determined to prove to Maura that he knew where she belonged even if she didn't.

"I'm here," he told her. He knew she was awake, and whispered softly with the knowledge of his own ancient torments, "I know where you are. You're running in the dark, you don't know where you are or where you should be. Nothing seems right, or sure, or yours. I know I can't change that. But I'm here, I'm always here, and I won't let you go no matter what. You can't put enough space between us to lose me."

She didn't answer. In fact, she barely breathed. He knew, didn't he, he knew she was intent on exiling herself even if she didn't pack up and go. Why wouldn't he let her, why did he insist on holding her back? So focused was Maura on the bridges she felt she'd burned to ashes nothing else seemed to matter. Nick's persistence just confused her. The answer she hadn't been listening to came again, the words Nick couldn't stop repeating.

"I love you."

Her voice was faint with disbelief. "_Still_?" His forehead rested on her shoulder then, a pained sigh in her ear.

"How many languages, how many words, what will it take to convince you that you're not powerful enough to destroy this?"

She was quiet for a long time, then asked again in a tentative voice, "Still?" She wanted so much to believe him.

His silent answer was to nuzzle her neck. It wasn't even near new moon, but her fragrance surrounded him anyway. She'd been so far away for weeks now; they hadn't made love in any fashion since before Christopher was killed. He missed her warmth and texture, the connectedness when he drank from her. Even though she refused to believe it Nick missed the comfort he found with Maura at the times he could barely hold his own against the mortal world and his immortal doubts. He missed the knowledge that came to him in her blood and in honesty he missed the intoxication as well. Feeling just a little like a cad Nick pulled them tighter together and opened his mouth to feel her pulse beat against his tongue, the one thing about her that was constant and unchanging. He didn't even pull back before biting her, just kept his open mouth pressed against her and let his fangs slip in as a natural extension of his kiss.

_Just make it go away, just make it all go away even for a little while._ Two minds longed for the same thing. Two pairs of eyes fluttered shut, simultaneous whimpers of relief escaped two bruised psyches. No words, no thoughts, just the connection that wiped out all other concerns. Even on the tight confines of the sofa Nick managed to rock them, the mere inches of motion a familiar part of their sharing. Everything between them had become so unfamiliar these past weeks. The craving was for more than blood or comfort but for even the barest trace of something recognizable in the midst of so much disturbing confusion.

Drowning in sensation, the pain dulled and cares dissolved in a wash of color and light as both of them sank into the warmth and pleasure they found only with each other. Nick drank longer than his usual habit, he hadn't fed at all this evening so drawing from Maura filled more needs than one. His inner gauge relaxed as he fell deeper and deeper into blessed peace. The fears and doubts that tormented Maura flowed freely into Nick, but so familiar was he with such things he merely accepted them as wounds that would heal in time. She tasted so sweet and strong, and surrounded him with a velvety cocoon that kept the hard-edged world at bay.

Through the flickers of warmth and surrounding tenderness Maura could feel an unaccustomed drift drawing her away from her awareness of Nick's embrace, away from even the light and color he filled her with. He was careless, losing himself more than usual because he needed so much to escape from where she'd trapped him. Good, she owed him that. She felt as if she were approaching something else, something she needed, as she floated farther away, farther from pain, farther from the danger of her own recklessness, _good, Nick, do it, bring me across to the only place you can, for good and ever_.

Nick was jolted so violently he nearly fell to the floor. "_Do it_," her blood had told him, "_bring me across_," but she knew her nature made that impossible, he couldn't bring her across, not really, he could only… _oh god_, he jerked his mouth from Maura's throat abruptly enough to spray a fan of blood along her shoulder. "_No_!" he whispered hoarsely, pushing himself away then as quickly nearly crushing her against him. "No, no," he moaned in her ear, "don't ask me that, don't think that," but she was too far away to hear. He pulled himself together and listened carefully, sensing he hadn't drained her enough to give her what she wanted. Gathering Maura into his arms, Nick flew them upstairs and tucked her tight against him in bed, her head on his shoulder. Her pallor worried him, but the strength of the pulse Nick heard and felt convinced him she'd survive. He didn't sleep at all, as if her insomnia had left her to infect him.

Maura heard the phone ringing far away. Ringing and ringing, then the murmur of the machine and an indistinct message. Where was Nick? As she struggled awake she recognized the weakness and suddenly remembered last night. Obviously her careless plea had gone unheeded. She felt strangely well, as if some of the darkness and misery had been drawn away along with her blood. Now things were a little clearer, if no brighter, and maybe she could accept her own grievous mistake as she'd accepted his past ones, as he seemed to accept hers now. A sin of behavior but not of substance. Let the evil be sufficient unto the day. And Maura recognized something else, that what was helping her was as much the certainty of love and support as it was the rare feelings Nick's feeding always raised in her. It's not always magic, he'd told her on more than one occasion. Sometimes it's just us.

She met Nick in the doorway as he returned from his shower. He went to her and took her hands. "How are you feeling? I think you slept well for the first time in weeks."

Maura nodded. "Yeah, and I think you siphoned some of my bad karma out. Thank you." She hugged him around the neck, kissing his damp skin. "Mmm you smell good." He held her away from him.

"You asked me for something last night, something I still can't believe."

Maura looked away. "I didn't really _ask_, did I? I wouldn't have _asked_, you know that, I can't help it if you can read deeper than what I want to say." She looked him in the eye again. "I'm just so _tired_, you know? I don't think I really meant it, I'd never have thought of it if I believed you'd do it, really." She didn't want him worrying about some latent suicidal urge that didn't exist. He looked doubtful, so she hugged him again. "I wouldn't lie to you, not again, I swear. Not about that. Please, don't worry about me, you have enough to worry about."

Nick held Maura in front of him, his face inches from hers, peering into her eyes for hidden clues. Seeing none, he kissed her and pressed his cheek in her hair. "Okay, I won't. You scared me though, I scared myself."

"I'm fine, Nicolas, better than I've been for a while now. I guess I just needed a little of that Knight magic."

When she raised her head to look at Nick Maura was relieved to see affectionate smile was back. "Not magic, Sweet, just us."

Maura showered and changed and headed downstairs to get some much-needed coffee, where she saw Nick talking to his partner and a stranger. Schanke must have been the phone message she heard while waking. The young woman with the dirty-blonde hair who stood at Schanke's side looked eerily familiar, though Maura couldn't put her finger on it at first.

"Hey Schank, what's up?" She felt awkward; after all, his newest obsession was to find Kevin Mitchell and bring him to justice. She waited for him, or Nick, to introduce her to the woman.

"Maura, this is Karen Mitchell. Turns out Kevin has family after all, Karen is his twin sister. She wants to help us find him."

It was then that Maura noticed Nick's expression, a mix of trepidation and fatalism. Another albatross around his neck, another link in her self-made chain of remorse. "Twin," she echoed stupidly.

"Detective Schanke told me what my brother did to your friend. You have to believe he wasn't always like this."

Maura wasn't sure how to respond. "Christopher was Kevin's friend, too. Or he thought so anyway." Karen shifted uneasily, frowning. What a dumbass thing to say. At a loss, Maura looked at Schanke.

"Karen has some ideas where Kevin might have gone."

Does she really, Maura thought silently with a glance at Nick. Over his initial shock, his expression was now inscrutable. He shrugged.

"No reason not to listen."

"But why do you need me?" Maura asked.

Karen looked apologetic. "I don't really, we don't, but it's just that you knew my brother a little anyway. He took so much from you, I guess I wanted to say I'm sorry. I know I had nothing to do with it, but blood connects us so I guess it's left to me to say I'm sorry."

Something twisted inside Maura as she listened to the earnest words. "It's okay, really. Things have a way of evening out." And how. She zoned out as they sat in the living room, Nick pretending to take note of Karen's insights into Kevin's habits and where he might have gone, Schanke prompting Karen when she faltered. Did he have a habit of killing his friends, Maura wondered so distinctly in her head she was afraid she'd spoken aloud. And can you imagine he might have gone up in flames? Suddenly Maura felt compelled to do something, _anything_ but sit there and listen to the sister of the man who murdered her friend reason out how to find the brother she believed was still alive.

Maura sprang from the armchair as if from a slingshot, startling everyone present. "Can I get anybody anything?"

"I'm good," Schanke told her when he'd recovered. Karen said much the same. Nick just stared.

"I gotta get some air," Maura announced lamely and made for the stairs. "I'll be on the roof."

She didn't know how long she'd been there when Nick finally came to find her, only that the sun had gone down. This time she was sitting in the corner between the doorway and a chimney, arms wrapped around her drawn-up knees. He said nothing, only sat down beside her. Without a word she moved sideways, head leaning on his shoulder, silent, barely breathing. There was nothing to say. He reached an arm around her and gently rubbed a hand back and forth against her back.

"Tell me how to make it stop," she murmured at last, when the moon had climbed overhead. "This racing feeling inside, like a rat in a box, this desperate panic to run away. You know how it feels."

He did. But he didn't have an answer for her, not the one she needed. He tightened his arms around her. "I wish I knew."

"But it's gone from you now, or it's faded, it's not like when I met you. If you tell me how you did it maybe I can try."

Nick whispered in her ear as if it were a secret, "I let go of as much as I could. I still work on it, every day. That's all."

Maura breathed a shuddery sigh and pressed closer, hoping for some sort of osmosis of wisdom. "It won't let go of _me._"

"It will. I promise. You'll outlast it like I did." He felt her breathing shift then, but she wasn't crying.

"I don't have 800 years, Bats."

"I know, Sweet. Just hold on. I love you, I won't let you go."

She'd never heard him sound so burnt out. "I love you too. For whatever it's worth."

"You know it's still worth everything. Come on, let's go inside, okay? We're both so wrung out, I get nervous about falling asleep up here."

Maura rose and hauled Nick to his feet. He was right, they were both beaten flat by the recent weeks' events. They trudged downstairs in silence and each settled at opposite ends of the sofa with a book. Maura tried to lose herself in a Christopher Moore novel, hoping to be lightened by his characteristic absurdity. Nick was buried in anthropology, wandering past centuries. Worn out by questions and decisions, they didn't bother to turn on music. Somehow each found a shred of solace in the quiet that surrounded them and the words before their eyes, and the link between them that seemed to form of its own accord. Nick's free hand rested on Maura outstretched foot, his fingers idly rubbing and giving the odd distracted squeeze.

Hours passed, and Maura closed her now-finished novel. Nick was still absorbed in the burgeoning European iron age, so rather than speak she simply watched him quietly. After long minutes he felt her eyes on him, and looked up from the page.

"Okay?"

"Yeah." She flexed her toes against his fingers. "I guess I'm too impatient." Nick's expression turned puzzled. "I mean like what you said about letting go as much as I can, like that. I can't help wanting it to be all better _now_."

"Try not to let it run you. I want it to be all better now, too, but the real world intrudes."

Maura nodded in agreement. "Things got good so fast when I got here, like night and day. You should pardon the expression. I don't know how after a lifetime of waiting and wanting this and that and not getting it very often I suddenly decided that instant gratification was the new paradigm. But Toronto turned out to be the Promised Land. I wanted a job and I got one. I wanted to be safe, and I was. I wanted you to love me, and you do." She pondered a moment, and her contemplative expression was colored by a faint smile. "So I guess it's all _your_ fault." Nick's eyebrows rose.

"Please accept my apology for raising your expectations."

"Maybe just this once." Maura's tone became thoughtful again. "I have to remind myself now that a good life doesn't mean a 'normal' one, you know? Being who I am, who we are, when we screw up the stakes are higher."

Nick grimaced. "You should pardon the expression."

For a moment, anyway, things seemed almost normal. Reluctantly Maura withdrew her foot from Nick's grasp.

"I gotta get ready for work, Vachon is picking me up soon. I'll ask him to drive me home after if you want."

Nick shook his head. "No, I'll come get you. It'll give me a chance to visit with Janette."

"She'd like that." _So would I_, Maura thought to herself. _We can use all the ancient insight we can get._


	2. Chapter 2

"So Maura's impulsiveness continues to resonate," Janette acknowledged Nick's predicament, not without sympathy. He hadn't come to her for advice, merely to unburden himself to someone who wasn't already bearing an equal load.

"If LaCroix had just refused to get involved," Nick muttered pointlessly. He knew the truth before Janette spoke.

"We have discussed this before, Nicolas. Nothing would have dissuaded her, and it is certain that there would be more… difficult consequences had she gone elsewhere for help."

Nick nodded and stared at the candle flame. Janette took one of his hands in her own. "Poor Nicolas," her tone bore no irony, "it is painful to see you struggle with this."

He squeezed her hand and smiled a little grimly as he looked across the room. "Poor both of us." Maura was at her usual post near the end of the bar, keeping one eye on the bouncers and one on the dance floor, grateful for the distraction of professional vigilance. "The punishment seems to far outweigh the crime this time, don't you think?" Janette knew he wasn't talking about himself. Her gaze followed his.

"Life is a merciless creditor, cheri, even our version of it. But we have the luxury of knowing that given enough time, all things balance one another."

"I just wish I knew how much time is 'enough'." The gentle pressure of Janette's fingers drew his eyes back to hers.

"Life with a mortal has made you impatient."

"I've always been impatient, Janette." His smile warmed. "It's been a favorite flaw for you to observe and tend to through the centuries."

Now Janette smiled too. She leaned her head against his shoulder and mused, "How many temporary tragedies have we endured, Nicolas? How many unwinnable struggles have engaged us, only to fade away when we outlasted them?"

He turned his head to kiss her. "That's what I told her, that she'll outlast this. She doesn't believe me of course."

"Of course. Mortals have the tiresome need to 'believe'. It has never affected reality, and never will. I imagine Maura is quite tormented by that need, yes?"

"'Belief' has often been an issue with us, more hers than mine. But sensible or not, it's a formidable obstacle. She's convinced her presence is an insult to me, that the only way she can repair the damage she's done is to leave. She 'believes' it's the perfect justice for her 'perfect justice'..."

No response from Janette but movement of her fingers on his arm. "And _you_ will outlast that 'belief'."

"From your mouth to," Nick's thought was interrupted when Janette abruptly raised her head, and eyebrows.

"Just an expression," he assured her, then he grew sadly pensive again. "You know she asked me to kill her last night."

This shocked Janette. "Surely you misunderstood."

"Not a bit. Well she didn't ask me in words, exactly, I just felt it, it was very deep, maybe just a momentary impulse."

"It came to you in her blood."

"Yes. She swore to me this morning that it _was_ an impulsive thought, that she never meant it."

"You do not sound convinced." The concern in Janette's voice was echoed on her face as she turned her attention again to where Maura was now chatting amiably with Miklos and Vachon. "Perhaps if I were to talk to her…"

"It's a nice thought, Janette, but unless she comes to you and not vice versa not much will come of it. She's only now beginning to open up to me about what's happening inside, and waiting for the times she's ready hasn't been easy."

"Do you think she might do something reckless?"

"You mean dangerous. No, I don't. But talking does no good unless she's willing to listen, and it's hard to know when the time is right. She wants so badly to have an answer, she worries her mind into fits looking for a way to fix things. If there's a magic combination of words to get her to understand it's not her job, it's a mystery to me."

"We are a willful and secretive little family, n'est-ce pas?"

"D'accord," Nick agreed with a sigh, and with nothing more to say they reached arms around one another's shoulders and remained joined in sympathetic silence as they had so many countless times over hundreds of years. Such constancy, at least, was a comfort to Nick as the chaos that had invaded his life mocked his attempts to subdue it.

Miklos had gone to serve some customers at the far end of the bar, leaving Vachon and Maura to themselves.

"So Vash, has LaCroix been around lately?" Her attempt to sound casual failed miserably. Vachon simply knew her too well to be fooled.

"Who wants to know? And why do you ask? Answer the second question first." She hadn't confided in him regarding Kevin's demise, but he suspected there had to be some connection between LaCroix and Maura's recent turmoil.

"Sorry I asked, if you're gonna get all weird. Stack 'em by the door, will you? It's that time."

With a tolerant smile and shake of his head that said "Foiled again," Vachon brought two cases of empties to leave by the alley door. When Maura had placed them by the dumpster and turned to go back into Raven she was somehow not surprised to see LaCroix leaning against the wall by the door.

"You've been asking after me?"

He never gives up on the drama, does he, Maura thought to herself. "On top of things as always, LaCroix." The tall, elegant vampire ran a delicate finger along the corner of his mouth as if to tidy up.

"Yes, well, as a matter of fact I was, until I heard my name." The large quantity of blood he'd taken during his single attack on Maura had left behind a one-way psychic link, far weaker than what he shared with Janette or Nick but undeniably permanent. A faux-nostalgic smile spread across LaCroix's face and he waved an elegant hand.

"Just think, Maura, this is where we first met. Where you and _Nicholas _first met. Why it seems the most vital relationships of your recent life were formed here." The reference to Christopher did not go unnoticed.

"So you've come to, you should pardon the expression, poke me with a sharp stick?"

"My dear, it was you who asked for _me_." He sat down on a nearby crate. "Do tell me what is on your mind. I imagine what with the recent turn of events it must be weighty indeed."

"Fuck you, LaCroix," and she felt a childish pleasure at his displeased expression. He _so_ hated vulgar language. "You know my little farewell-to-Kevin has sent everything all to"

"Hell?" LaCroix broke in helpfully. "It isn't as if I didn't warn you. If you remember, I raised the issue of consequences, however briefly… and now they have arrived."

Worn out by the eternal verbal swordplay, Maura dropped with a thump onto an adjacent box and looked at LaCroix as she might look at a fellow passenger who shared an unpleasant trip. "Okay, yeah, you warned me. And like so many you've known, and probably just like _you_ if you're feeling honest, I saw nothing but my own private payback. I don't have to tell you any of it, you _know _what it's like to be cornered by a bad decision."

An odd look passed over LaCroix's features for barely a heartbeat. "Yes, well, you have me there." His attention was suddenly drawn by a sound around the corner that Maura couldn't hear. "I believe you have a visitor. We can continue this… tête á tête … another time." He was gone before Maura could reply. What LaCroix had heard first now was apparent to Maura: hesitant footsteps approaching. As the figure drew nearer into the circle of the alley light Maura realized with a start that it was Karen Mitchell.

"He told me I'd find you here." She sounded almost apologetic.

"Who told you?"

"That man by the bar, the younger one, with the dark hair. He told me you were out back, and I figured if I came around this way I wouldn't startle you. He said sometimes you sit out here for awhile before going back inside."

"Not so much now. But thanks." An awkward silence followed.

"I didn't come to make excuses, or to apologize," Karen blurted out suddenly. "I just, I don't know, I just wanted to see what was here, who he knew. I don't know, maybe I figured if I see and hear enough and meet the people he knew, I could figure out why… you know. How he turned out this way. He really wasn't always like that, something changed him. You do understand, don't you, that people can turn out different than they started."

Maura let out a slow breath. "Oh yeah, I understand. You have no idea how I understand."

"You knew my brother."

"Not exactly. I met him a few times, he hung around when I was hanging with Christopher."

"I tried to talk to Christopher's family, they were polite but they said they didn't want me to call again."

"Can you blame them? The only reason you know who they are is because Kevin killed Christopher. Would _you_ want to talk to someone who killed your brother?" The words were out before she could stop them. "Look, I have work to do. I met your brother, yeah, and no offense but I wasn't impressed. He was rude and nasty to me, and he tried real hard to get Christopher to help him rob Darren. You know what happened when he said 'no'. What more is there to say?" Maura rose and waited just long enough for politeness' sake before she opened the door. "You wanna come in?"

"No thanks. Look, I won't say I know what you've been going through because I don't. I know your boyfriend Nick and his partner are working really hard to find Kevin, and I know what will happen when they do. I'm not going to get in the way. I thought maybe I could help…"

Maura's eyes shut as she fought the impulse to run inside. She turned to face Karen. "You can't change what happened. Wanting it to have been different, wanting to have made different decisions, I mean I don't know about your relationship with your brother but I can guess maybe there are things you'd want to have done differently. But it's just too late for that and 'wanting' will only drive you crazy. Go home, Karen, wherever that is. Whatever Kevin became since you saw him last, the Kevin I saw couldn't have been him. Trust me, if you ever loved him when he was someone else, you don't want to know who he was in the end."

"But wherever he is now, maybe…"

"You can't reach him, he's too far gone for that now. Don't ask me how I know, but I do. You've lost him as sure as I lost Christopher, and for all of our futilely good intentions neither one of us can do a goddamned thing about it."

The two women stood with gazes locked, sharing little information but undeniable understanding. Karen reached a hand to Maura's arm.

"I know. I do, really. Sometimes you just can't stop yourself."

Maura looked away, up, down, anywhere else. "You got that right."

"I won't intrude again. I told Detective Schanke I'd meet with him tomorrow, but after that I think I'll go home. You're right, I'm just driving myself crazy. Done is done, we've all made our choices and we have to live with them."

Maura nodded without speaking as Karen turned to go, then stopped and turned to her again.

"Seattle."

"Huh?"

"Seattle. That's home."

"Lots of rain there," Maura said stupidly.

"Yeah, but it's home. Rain and all."

"Take care, Karen."

"You too."

After she went back into the club Maura laid her head against the locked door, overwhelmed. She jumped as a hand gripped her shoulder.

"You wanna take a break, Luna?" Vachon. She was absurdly grateful it wasn't Nick, she just didn't want to face him right now.

"Yeah, Vash, do you mind?" She knew he could feel how close she was to the divide between whole and shattered.

"C'mon in back, there's nothing to do but wait out the stragglers to leave." She let him lead her into the office, and after he closed the door he turned her to face him.

"Hey, I know you can't tell me everything. But it's okay. You know I'm here if you need me."

That was all it took to push her over the edge. Maura reached for her friend and coworker, who knew little about what was torturing her but was there for her, as always, anyway. He was neutral territory, and only this second did she realize how desperately she needed that.

"Oh shit, Vash," she sobbed, "I've fucked up everything so bad, I don't know what to do anymore. I did something so terrible, and so many people are paying for it, I'll just never be able to make it up to them."

He considered this as she clung to his shoulder, petting her head a bit awkwardly. "Well maybe you don't have to, did you ever think of that? Maybe it's because I've been alive so long, and I'm gonna live forever if I can avoid pissing off the wrong people and stay outta natural light, but it just doesn't make sense to keep score like that because like the bookies say in the long run the best you can do is break even. No matter how great you are or how many times you fuck up, sooner or later you only break even."

The tears stopped then as she raised her head to look him in the eye. "You think so?" She'd never really looked at it in terms of even a mortal lifetime.

"How do you think Janette and Nick have stayed together after so long? Yeah they had their knock-down drag-outs, they fucked up and did some really, stupid/bad/ugly things. But they've been around long enough to see how the lines smooth out in the long run. The _really_ long run. It only looks like the edge of a cliff to you because you're looking at such a small picture. If you back away far enough, oh several hundred years or so, the drop looks a whole lot shorter."

"But I can't do that, can I? I don't _have_ several hundred years to see it like that."

"Well can't you just take my word for it? When you wake up in the middle of the night you can't see in the dark like I can, but you still know you're at home, right? You know Nick's there with you even when you can't see him, right?"

She nodded, beginning to feel dense in the face of his vampire common-sense, something Nick hadn't been able to offer because he was as deep inside the chaos as she was.

"All right, then. Quit going mental over how to 'fix' things and leave it to the ones that know how, if they do. Hell, something breaks on the 'stang, you think I try to fix it myself?"

This triggered a laugh, as Maura pictured Vachon's panic when anything went amiss with his beloved '66 cherry-red Mustang. "Okay, I think I get it."

"Good." He gave her another hug. "You gotta quit _worrying_ me like this, Luna. It just doesn't have to be this hard, you know? You'd _never_ make it as an immortal, you have no sense of perspective."

"Thanks, Vash. Y'know it's funny, mortals think of you guys as soulless monsters and all I've known since I've come to Toronto are people more 'civilized' than any mortals I've ever met."

Vachon shrugged. "I guess being brought across raises your standards."

Maura gave him an affectionate shove as he led the way back into the club. "Don't go getting all uppity. I'm still the boss"


	3. Chapter 3

"What's shakin', Sweet?"

Maura was idly rearranging the shot glasses at the end of the bar when the Nick embraced her from behind.

"Nothin' much." She leaned her head back on Nick's shoulder and rested against him. The customers had cleared out, the band packed up and Vachon and Miklos gone for their late night prowls.

"How long have you been ready to leave? Why didn't you come get me?"

Maura rotated in Nick's grasp but kept her head on his shoulder. She loved being close to him like this, the respite they gave one another from their complicated lives was the most complete comfort she could imagine, and she must have been certifiably mental to try to back away from it. He felt like home to her, he always had.

"You and Janette were talking, I didn't want to interrupt you."

Nick tightened his embrace and chided gently, "Janette and I have been talking for centuries. You wouldn't have interfered with any grand enlightenment."

"Yeah, still. You needed it."

She felt him nod in the affirmative. "I suppose I did. Even without enlightenment sometimes it just helps to, well, ruminate with someone who's known you forever. Just dump it all out, no need to worry if you're saying the wrong thing." Some women would be hurt by hearing their lover speak that way about another woman, or anyone really, but Nick knew Maura understood. Now she straightened and looked in Nick in the eye. They seemed less dark, more calm than before.

"I got a little talking-to from Vachon tonight."

"Really?" Nick's surprise was evident. He knew Maura and Vachon had become good friends but was unaware of any particular confidences between them.

"Yeah, he told me to stop keeping score. Like trying to figure out how to pay back what I fucked up as if it's some cosmic balance sheet, you know? He told me the ups and downs smooth out when you stand back far enough. He said I needed to let things get fixed by the people that knew how. I mean, I didn't tell him what was going on, just that I'd messed up big time. So he laid on me, you know, a bunch of that vampire-perspective shit that I never come up with on my own. You probably tried to tell me yourself but who listens to the people you live with?"

"Familiarity breeds deafness? Interesting." He gave up the tease when her expression remained serious. "So did he make sense to you?"

Nick's arms were around her waist; she could feel his thumbs working back and forth along the edges of her backbone. "Yeah, in fact I felt kind of stupid I never thought of it before like that. You're the detective, detective, and even if I'm the one that threw everything out the window you know better than me how to get it back. Or something."

It sounded reasonable, but he wasn't entirely convinced and looked deeper into her eyes. "So you agree with that? Can you let me handle it, whatever I end up managing to figure out, and stop trying to fix things by suggesting I turn you in, or by hiding in the corner?"

"The roof," she corrected a little sheepishly, "I've been hiding on the roof." He didn't respond, just kept gazing steadily into her eyes awaiting her answer. "Yeah I think I can. I mean I'll still get the urge and all, but I promise I'll hang in there and not run away like a big chicken."

"A really, _really_ big chicken. Well I'm glad to know I'll no longer be your role model for self-flagellation." The lightening humor that warmed Nick's face began to spread to Maura. Maura had been staring at him with a look that said, all right I give up, you're right, I was wrong, but now the serious expression dissolved in a smile that lit her eyes. "Good news for both of us," she admitted.

"You can't look at me like that without getting this," and he kissed her.

"Nicolas, Maura, please don't think I am not _pleased_ you're so devoted but would you kindly indulge yourselves in your own home?"

Nick turned to look at Janette, then faced Maura with a put-on chastened expression. "I think we've just been told to get a room."

"This _is_ a room," Maura told Janette, who smiled a little too tolerantly. "I think Janette wants to call it a night," she informed Nick.

"This _is_ a night," Nick retorted smartly, but released Maura and went to give Janette an embrace and kiss goodnight that would have had any "normal" girlfriend hissing and scratching someone's eyes out. As it was, Maura taunted, "Hot stuff, you think you can buy anyone off like that don't you?"

"It's worked fine for 800 years," he commented with a wink. Janette removed herself from Nick's embrace to stand by Maura's side, then both women looked at each other and laughed, causing Nick to stop in his tracks and regard them both a little uneasily.

"I'm not sure I'm in such an enviable position, now that I think of it." As if on cue Janette and Maura each took one of his arms, hugging close to his shoulders and kissing him on each cheek as they made their way to the front door.

"Bullshit, Bats, you never had it so good. Instead of spending every waking minute trying to keep yourself in line, you have _us_ to do it for you."

Nick stood in the open doorway as Maura and Janette, standing shoulder to shoulder, smiled at him. "You say that like it's a good thing…" he muttered, only half kidding.

"Good _night_, Nicolas," Janette closed and locked the door after Maura joined Nick outside.

Seeing the sky brightening faintly at the horizon, she tugged nervously at Nick's arm. "Let's roll, detective, we're burning moonlight."

Back home just under the sunrise, Maura grabbed the remote and closed the shutters so quickly they banged against the sills. After he'd returned from the kitchen with a half-guzzled bottle Nick asked observed with obvious relief, "You really are feeling better, aren't you? I don't believe it was just Vachon, either, but I think together we might have slowed you down enough for logic to catch up." He set the bottle and glass down on the coffee table and joined Maura on the sofa. "You think?"

"Yeah," she leaned over and gave him a kiss. Not nearly enough of those had been happening lately, she realized. "I am doing better, and you guys did help drag me to a halt. I know it's still a messed up situation, but I think I can hold myself back while someone else tries to straighten it out. I mean, how many _more_ shoes can be waiting to drop?" Next evening she was sorry she asked.

Nick had already left for work when the phone rang.

"Hey Maura, it's Don."

"Hey, Schank, he just left about ten minutes ago. You should see him soon."

"No, it's you I wanna talk to. About this Mitchell thing. I didn't want to bring Nick into it right now because he's wound so tight."

Maura could feel a ball of ice in her stomach. "But what can I tell you?"

"More than you have, I think. Look, I'm not accusing you of anything, and I sure don't want to talk to anyone else about this right now. But it's just not adding up. People just don't go poof into thin air while in police custody. Especially scrawny mental midgets like Mitchell was."

Was. Shit.

"I don't understand."

"You working tonight?"

"No, I have Tuesdays off. Why?"

"We need to talk about what's been going on. Just you and me. And I don't wanna do it on the phone."

"But what can this have to do with me?" She could feel her denials running out of steam.

Schanke snapped at Maura abruptly, which surprised her. "Stop, okay? I've been Nick's partner since way before you came along, he wouldn't be with anyone as dense as you're playing. Don't insult us both, okay?" She'd never heard that edge in his voice except when he completely frustrated by a case.

"Okay. Where and when?"

"How about I come over there? You said Nick's on his way in, I'll leave him a message saying I've gone out to talk to a witness." There was a moment's pause before he continued, "That's not far from the truth, is it?" There was none of the usually Schanke hesitance in evidence, none of the slight awkwardness she'd become accustomed to. Tonight Nick's partner was nothing but cop, and nothing but business.

"Okay. I'll be here."

"Twenty minutes."

"Okay."

She had twenty minutes to think of more lies, or to come up with a way to tell the truth that wouldn't put her in the booby hatch and Nick before an IAD board of inquiry. By the time the buzzer sounded, Maura had decided to try to split the difference.

"Hey," Maura greeted Schanke, who looked as businesslike as he sounded on the phone, but with an undercurrent of something she couldn't put her finger on. Not awkwardness, no. Reluctance, and disappointment, like someone determined to do something he really didn't want to do.

"We both know this isn't a social call," he replied when she offered him coffee to go with the donuts she assumed were in the paper bag he was carrying.

"Talk to me, Maura."

"Does Nick know you had questions for me?" she asked as she sat on the sofa, Schanke in the leather armchair nearby, setting the paper bag on the floor.

"No. If somebody's gonna try to lie to me I'd rather it was you."

This pushed a button in Maura. "Nick would no more lie to you than,"

"Yeah, actually, he would," Schanke interrupted, "but for only one reason. He'd do it to protect you, even if you don't believe he would. Some of what makes him the best cop I ever knew stops short where you stand. And he's the best _partner_ I've ever had, and I need to trust him like I always have, so I'd rather not have to face that. So I'm asking you instead. What did you have to do with Kevin Mitchell's disappearance." It wasn't even a question. He knew it was her.

Maura couldn't take her eyes from Schanke's unwavering gaze, much as she wanted to. She knew this man, she even supposed she loved him for what he knew and did and was to Nick, for watching out for him in ways she never could and for the support he'd given to her when Nick was beyond her reach. For accepting Nick in a more meaningful way than Maura ever could because he did it without any of his questions being answered, and he did it without question.

"You're right. I set it up. I wanted him dead." It was the truth, after all.

"And you figured maybe he'd be shot resisting arrest. Or at the least have more years added to his sentence."

It was so exactly the "explanation" she'd proposed to Nick when she'd begged him to turn her in, she was shocked into silence for a moment.

"Maura? Is that it?"

"Yeah, Donnie. That's it. Though I don't know that I was thinking all that clearly." True again. "I persuaded this guy I know, he came by the bar from time to time but I don't even know if he lives in Toronto," it was easier not to lie than she thought, "to do what those cops said he did. Distraction."

"But how could a second's 'distraction' allow some skinny punk to overpower two trained, armed officers? It doesn't add up."

"This guy, he's got this talent I guess you'd call it. He can hypnotize people, or confuse them enough at least for a few minutes so they're not sure what's going on."

"What's his name? Can we find him if we have to?"

"I don't imagine so, he's transient. And he picks up names along the way, so who knows what his real one is. Kind of a poser. I didn't even have to pay him, he did it for kicks." If she'd ever defined LaCroix more succinctly she was unaware of it.

"You're telling me this friend of yours _hypnotized_ two Toronto police officers long enough for Mitchell to get away." Schanke's face said he wasn't buying it, not right away anyway.

"He's not my 'friend'. And I don't know exactly what happened, I know he said he could do this thing, and I figured well if it _didn't_ work he'd just walk off and no harm done."

"No harm done. You were setting up a prisoner escape and no harm done?"

Finally she looked away, rubbed her eyes. "Donnie, I was mental, okay? That's not an excuse, or a defense, it's just the way it was. Do you really think if I was thinking clearly I'd do something that would put Nick's nuts in the wringer? Or yours, for that matter?" She looked straight at Schanke then, no artifice and no attempt to convince him. He considered her for a moment.

"No, Maura, I don't expect you would. But what _were_ you thinking?"

"Besides wanting the killer of possibly my best friend dead? You see this shit a lot, Donnie, how much room usually is there in somebody's head for anything besides that?"

"Not much," he admitted. They were both silent for a few minutes, Schanke's eyes wandering to a photograph taken at that year's department picnic, the first at their new precinct. Maura followed his gaze; in the picture Schanke and Myra, Nick and Maura, were standing near the beach bonfire laughing at someone's bad joke, so out of control they had to lean on each another for support. "So does Nick know about all this?" Schanke asked finally, and clearly he already knew the answer.

"Yeah." For just a second Schanke appeared on the verge of either a rage or a meltdown. "I'm sorry Donnie, I wanted to go to the cops with it just to get it off my back, you know? Nothing noble, but I couldn't stand what it was doing to Nick, how it killed him to keep anything from you and the others. But especially you. No he said, no, no, no, we fought over it more than once. And for the first time ever, I did something I didn't wanna do because it was what Nick wanted. I figured I owed him that." She misread Schanke's vague expression. "I know what you think of me, I'm making some whining excuse for bailing my own ass out, 'poor Nick, I was only trying to help him' as I hung him and you out to dry. Do what you want with this, Donnie, but please don't blame Nick. Everything that makes _me_ want to come clean stops short where he stands. If you tell Cohen he knew, I'll take it all back. I'll say I lied out of desperation, I'll plead insanity beginning to end. I don't care. I won't let him hang for this. And yeah it's a little late to be thinking of Nick, no shit, but I swear I won't let him go to the block just because he loves me more than the law." She knew she was beginning to sound a little hysterical.

Schanke surprised her then by leaning forward to take her hands in his and squeeze them firmly. "Calm down, okay? Nobody's going to Cohen with anything. I came here to find out what was going on for my own information, not to gather evidence for IAD."

"But why? Why find out if you're not going to do anything with it?"

"I needed to know, for myself. No matter how this played out I didn't like the idea of spending the rest of our lives wondering when I look at you, or at Nick, what didn't you trust me enough to tell me? What else might join the list if I don't do something about it _now_? Look, Maura, this whole thing is driving all of us to the edge." He studied her for a moment, then sighed. "I guess the more of us that join the daisy chain, the less chance anyone goes over."

"What are you saying?"

"I'm saying that in the grand scheme of things one slimy killer more or less is a drop in the bucket."

She shook her head, confused. "Come on, you don't mean that."

"I do if he's dead."

Maura braced herself before a wave of nausea. There was no _way_ Schanke could even suspect what had really happened, not without knowing all about Nick and the Community, everything. He was opening the bag now, and pulling something out.

"We picked up a drunk and disorderly vagrant vandalizing a warehouse by the waterfront. He was wearing these."

Oh, shit. Kevin's sneakers, the ones that Christopher had given him. The ones that didn't burn. The ones she'd ignored when she let "success" blind her to everything but what LaCroix instructed her to do.

"They were identical to the ones Mitchell was wearing when he took a powder, so I sent them to the lab on spec."

Oh my god. "Natalie?"

"Not the morgue, the other forensics lab. Natalie's sharp, but she doesn't do _everything_. Anyway, we found traces of soot and greasy ash on them that looked to be human remains. DNA matched the exclusionary blood sample we took from Mitchell when we were testing the knife and his jacket."

"So they're his, so?" She couldn't imagine where he was going with this.

"So the guy wearing them had been vandalizing a warehouse near a utility shed that had been torched the day before. There'd been enough leftover paint and other stuff to turn it into a real crematory, this was probably all that was left. Not even bone fragments. Any human ashes would be so contaminated by everything else, DNA tests would be a joke."

"But why didn't they burn?" Now _she_ was talking like a detective, indicating the filthy sneakers.

"They were in the doorway, the guy said, and they were pretty wet, probably seawater or something from earlier. Forensics say the deposit patterns are consistent with them being on the wearer at the time of the fire. Maybe he kicked 'em off trying to get out, or something. Guy said they had all sorts of crud in 'em so he dumped 'em out and took 'em."

"You're sure he's dead?" Maura asked this with an intensity that Schanke read as a thirst for revenge.

"Well as sure as we can be, I guess. We won't be looking for him anymore, anyway. Frankly I can't say I've used up too much Kleenex over it."

Suddenly Maura remembered someone else. "What about Karen? Does she know?"

"We had enough to go on that I talked to her about it this afternoon before she flew back to Seattle. She's okay, she knew the direction he was headed in and knew where he could end up. She asked me to thank you, by the way."

"You didn't tell her what you suspected?"

"No reason to, with him dead. She said you treated her decently, with respect, and she hadn't known if she could expect that given what her brother did to your friend. And to you."

"Guilt by association," Maura dropped her face briefly in her hands, "lot of that going around." She sat up straight. "So are you gonna tell Nick about this little interview?"

He shrugged. "I guess that's up to you. Selective honesty has been part of our partnership for so long, who am I to break tradition?" Maura moved quickly to kneel by Schanke's chair and grip his arm.

"Not _lies_, Donnie. There's a difference between keeping things to yourself, and making up something to cover your ass. The first one is just bad judgment, isn't it?" She could live with the second, if Nick and Schanke came out of it okay.

He nodded, and smiled a little. "Yeah, sweetheart, you're right. And bad judgment is gonna keep me from telling anyone else about this, especially Cohen. All she knows is I came to confirm the i.d. on the sneakers. Like I said, why break tradition?" He put the sneakers back in the bag and rose. "Well I guess we're through here." On the way to the door he paused. "Good thing we're not Catholic, huh?"

Maura shook her head, puzzled.

"Well considering all the ethical gymnastics we're doing, you me and Knight could be spending the rest of our lives in confession."

Maura stopped Schanke before he could enter the elevator.

"Donnie I know I've put you and Nick in a hard place. I've spent the last two weeks apologizing to Nick…"

Schanke hugged an arm around her and kissed her cheek and intoned with Mickey Spillane bravado, "Hard places are my favorite hangout, sister. Now I gotta get back to the precinct before _I_ have to spend two weeks apologizing to Nick."

"Thank you? Pretty lame, isn't it."

As the elevator door slid shut Maura heard Schanke laugh cynically. "Thank your man; if it were anyone else I'd have thrown you to the dogs."

She had a hard time believing that as she reached for the phone to call Nick.


	4. Chapter 4

The speed with which her tangled mess had been unraveled was almost as disorienting to Maura as the events that set it in motion. Of course Schanke's revelation of the discovery of Kevin's sneakers raised yet another fear in her, that of who the vagrant actually was, and where he usually hung out. She'd been _certain_ nobody had been around the morning of Kevin's flamboyant demise. Then again, she'd been certain she and LaCroix had gotten rid of everything that might draw attention to the area. When she called Nick after Schanke left the loft she begged him to find out more.

"Nick, this guy just dropped out of nowhere, poof. _Nobody _lived around there, no bums, no gangstas or crack heads. How the hell could he just have happened to be trolling for wardrobe? And I never heard about the arson, either."

"Slow down, will you?" Nick was at his desk when his cell went off so he took it down the corridor, trying to keep his voice down. "It wasn't a big fire, it burned hot but burnt out fast, by the time the one truck got to the scene there was almost nothing left to put out."

"I dunno, it all just seems so, so, outta _nowhere_, you know?"

"Look, why ask why. It's over. Kevin Mitchell's file has been officially closed, he's been declared dead in absentia."

"Bullshit. It takes seven years."

"In the movies, maybe. There's absolutely no reason for anyone _not_ to believe he died in that utility shed. The assumption is, he got away and wasn't bright enough to skip town. Case closed."

There was something else. "Nick, Schanke knows." She could _hear_ him jump when she said it, and his voice dropped until it was barely audible.

"What are you talking about."

"He knows, that I helped Kevin skip. He knew when he came here to talk to me, the sneakers were just a lame excuse for the captain and everyone else. He _knew_ I had something to do with it, he called me first to tell me the real reason he was coming. Don't ask me how he knew."

"He's a good detective. That's how he knew."

"And he's your partner. He knew you were all twisted up over something and it wasn't more than just the disappearance itself. He came so close it was scary."

"Well he seemed okay when he came in… what could you have told him that would have satisfied him?"

"Almost the truth. I told him I convinced this guy I knew, a transient who said he had hypnotic talents, to interfere with Mitchell's transfer. I told him it didn't matter if the guy could do it or not as long as he found a way to get Mitchell away. I also told him I didn't know they guy's real name, or where he lived and that it would be impossible to track him down."

"Well you managed all that with just one actual lie." Nick sounded impressed. He could hear Maura's breath getting uneven. "Calm down, Sweet, it's all over now."

"But Nick, it was so _close_. What if this guy saw something?"

"Maura I have to get back to the desk. I'll be home by 2 and we can talk about it some more. But please just try to relax, okay? I promise you have nothing to worry about."

"Well okay I guess. I'll try to unclench my brain. See you later."

Maura flung herself into the leather armchair. "Nick, jesus," she insisted as if he could hear, "how can you be so _sure_. What if he _saw_?" She jumped a mile when she heard the smooth voice come from seemingly thin air.

"He didn't see. But he _knew_." LaCroix announced this from the gallery and strolled down the stairs as if he were a boarder coming down for dinner.

"Shit, LaCroix, what are you up to?" She leapt from the chair. "How long have you been here?" It really creeped her out that he could show up and hang around and she'd never know.

"Please, do sit down. Nicholas is quite right, there is nothing to worry about." Apparently vampires could tap cell phone conversations. Swell. In spite of herself Maura returned to the chair, bereft of comment. She was so bewildered by recent circumstances she simply waited for him to explain. He settled himself on the sofa in an elegant slouch, but said nothing.

"You're gonna make me ask," Maura grumbled, eliciting an oily smile from her "guest".

"Manners dictate I wait to be invited to speak."

"Manners, right."

LaCroix seemed disappointed that she wasn't playing along with his tease. "Oh, all right. I can see you have no appreciation for true storytelling. The reason this 'vagrant' is no threat to you is that he is one of us. Well, not quite one of _us_," he paused with an expression of subtle distaste, as if he just discovered a rodent hair in his flan. If he could eat flan. "He is a carouche. The reason that he was so effective in his role as a filthy idle ragpicker is that is exactly what he _is_."

Maura was aware of the existence of the carouche, but in her whole life had never encountered one. Not so unusual, they were near-untouchables to the Community. She'd be as likely to have had contact with one as she would with some exotic form of rat. "And this carouche just stumbled onto the shed?"

Now LaCroix perfectly mimicked Maura's exaggerated look of patience on the rare occasions she'd put him in his verbal place. "Well wouldn't _that_ have been convenient." He fixed her with a look he might use on some simpleton requiring detailed instructions for a simple task. "Not only did he not 'stumble onto' the shed, he had one of his mortal minions set fire to it the night before."

"So it was a setup." God she sounded dense. LaCroix of course picked right up on it and clapped his hands delicately.

"Brava, Maura, you have deduced our little play-act. When _my_ mortal minions went back to finish cleaning up on that fateful morning, one of them located the shoes you so carelessly neglected to remove. I confess I had a certain sentimental attachment to them, being the sole surviving evidence of our wickedly inspired adventure."

"You're a sick fuck, you know that?" Maura interjected, enjoying as always LaCroix's reaction to her foul language.

"I'll overlook the murderess calling the accomplice 'sick' for the moment… the fact was that there seemed to be no imaginable way out of Nicholas's dilemma by any _conventional_ means. If things dragged on long enough there was a danger that some element of the truth might have been found out, which you know of course would be the end of your happy life with Nicholas."

"Yeah, truth sure is an ugly bastard, huh," Maura muttered bitterly, then to LaCroix, "Would you mind cutting to the chase? As you're fond of reminding me, I don't share your rich, full lifespan."

LaCroix rolled his eyes like a tolerant schoolmaster. "Very well. We reasoned that our scenario was plausible enough, given the recent unusual turn of events, to be accepted as an end to the whole unpleasant business. No more embarrassing questions asked about the night in question, no further need to search for a creature _some_ of us knew was not to be found."

"You keep saying 'we', what's all this 'we' shit?"

"Why Nicholas, of course. He advised me what type of scenario would be most convincing to a conscientious detective like his partner."

"Nick knew about this." She could scarcely believe it. "He knew and he didn't _tell_ me."

"Well we believed it best if you were seen to be as taken by surprise as anyone else. Some things are safer kept to oneself until the time is right." He had her there, and he knew it.

"Well I don't know what the hell to say to that." She thought for a moment. "What on earth possessed you to bail me out of this?"

"Do you really believe I'd stand by while a vengeful mortal brought the Enforcers down on us all with her reckless behavior? When it became evident that something needed to be done, I contacted Nicholas, who listened to reason after very little discussion. And after all, I _did_ extend to you the offer of a favor should you need it." He reacted to her stunned expression with a ringing laugh. "Naturally you believed that my participation in your farewell to Kevin Mitchell was that favor. _Please_, Maura, be sensible… helping along the demise of an inferior creature hardly carries much currency, it was nothing more than a diversion for me. Setting the train back on the track again, so to speak, now _that_ was a more worthy challenge." LaCroix settled deeper into the sofa and lazily examined his nails. "Barely."

"You couldn't have known this all would happen."

An offhand shrug. "My dear your 'plan' made it plain to me that when sufficiently provoked you follow no pattern of logic or reason. Things _would_ spin out of control, of that I was sure. It was the variables that were intriguing."

"So this is the 'favor' you were talking about, then."

"You must admit I've solved what's obviously the first _in_soluble problem you have ever encountered. Or should I say, caused."

Maura was about to respond with an angry outburst, but LaCroix's single arched eyebrow stopped her. He was right, damn him, wasn't he? All her life she'd stumbled into mazes and traps, but they were already there and waiting for her. Her mistake had always been either the inability to avoid them or the stubborn denial that they might exist. This time was the first time (that she knew of anyway) where she had built the mazes, laid the traps, and everyone around her had paid the price. And wouldn't it just be the case that the only one capable of rescuing them all was this, this arrogant, self-important, self-styled omnipotent and eternal (in the most hideously literal sense) _pain in the_ _ass_… his mild expression and superior, expectant smile made her want to break a chair over his albino buzz-cut head and pound the broken leg through his chest. But no, now she _owed_ him. Kill me now, okay? For once just cut me some slack, and rip my throat out.

"So I guess I should say thank you," Maura muttered, clearly choking on the words.

"Now then, don't take it so hard. Your friend's death has been avenged, and Nicholas' job and reputation among mortals is no longer at risk. And I promise not to gloat… much." He put on the smile of a motivational speaker and gestured with both hands, palm up, as if revealing the newest wisdom of the ages. "What is that expression the corporate age is so fond of… win/win?"

By now Maura was slumped sullenly in her chair and scowling through her eyebrows at her much-too-cheerful visitor. "Fine. _Fine._ Game, set, and match to the general from Pompous. Oh I'm sorry, I meant _Pompeii_." She stood and stalked toward the elevator. "Not that I don't want to be the perfect hostess, but would you please get the fuck out?" She inserted a theatrical pause and turned to mimic his subtly satirical tone, "With all due gratitude, of course…" but he was gone.

"_LaCroix!_" she shrieked like a fishwife to the empty air, "_Don't_ expect any flowers from me!"

Laughter echoed from nowhere, and everywhere. "I wouldn't _dream_ of it…"

By the time Nick got home hours later Maura's temper had cooled, but the annoyance remained. "_Why_ couldn't you have been an orphan?" she demanded the moment he'd come in the door.

There it was, the tolerant affectionate smile he reserved for moments like these. When she was being an unreasonable bitch-from-hell. "Maura," he sat on the arm of the chair where she'd been reading, "LaCroix did what none of us could do, he put and end to it. He pulled us all out of the fire."

"So to speak." She'd been thinking about it all evening, and it killed her to admit LaCroix's solution was brilliant in its simplicity, perfectly tailored for its 'audience'. She _hated_ that. "You could've told me. You could've _trusted _me."

Nick's response was gentle but its point was unmistakable. "So could you." That knocked all the fight out of her.

"Yeah I could've, couldn't I." A shadow of sadness flickered in her eyes. Nick headed it off with a kiss and a reminder.

"No more circles, Sweet. And I think we've managed to redraw all those lines you crossed."

"You might want to add some barbed wire, just in case."

Nick laughed as he pulled Maura to her feet for a proper hug. "I'm sure Raven has some extra lying around." When he looked at her again, her frown had deepened. "What?"

"I'm thinking about James. That's one line I'll never be able to re-draw."

"You could be right, Doucette, and I'm sorry for that. But maybe Vachon was right, maybe all it needs is more time and things will smooth out."

"Eight hundred years?"

"Probably not. Now c'mon, why don't we go have a dance or two and visit Janette ."

Maura brightened. "Okay. Maybe she can lend us some barbed wire."


End file.
